


Tax Time

by Fenris



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenris/pseuds/Fenris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing is certain but death and taxes. LaCroix is a master of one, not so much of the other. And Nick is absolutely no help whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tax Time

The Raven was relatively slow tonight, Nick noticed as he entered the club. He approached the bar where Miklos was pouring a house special for a pretty young woman who Nick didn't recognize, obviously flirting with her as he did. The Raven's newest owner looked up from his work and smiled at Nick.

"Nicola! It's good to see you. Are you here for a drink, or just looking for himself?"

Nick grinned and said with a touch of self-satisfaction, "The second. I thought he'd probably be here." The Romany vampire nodded, then indicated the back of the club with a turn of his head. "He's back in the old office. Watch out, he's not in a good mood."

Nick raised his eyebrows at that, then looked at the new arrival and nodded courteously to her, automatically flashing the attractive young vampire a disarmingly warm smile. "Hello."

Miklos took the hint and cleared his throat, shooting Nick a mildly dirty look as he did. "Nicola, this is Anneke, she's just come into town. Anneke, this is LaCroix' son Nicholas."

She dipped her head shyly, reddish blonde hair tumbling into her eyes, and gave Nick a soft, almost inaudible greeting. Then she looked back at Miklos, a slight hint of appeal in her eyes. Nick mentally revised her vampiric age from merely young to very, very young, probably new---and quite unused to meeting vampires who gave off the psychic patina of age and power that both he and his sire possessed. She must have been paralyzed when she was introduced to LaCroix, Nick thought. He grinned at Miklos, and inclined his head to the silent young woman.

"It's good to meet you, Anneke. Please excuse me, I have to go and take care of some business." She nodded, smiling back at him, and murmured, "Thank you, Elder. I'm glad to meet you," then bent her head to study her drink.

Nick turned and headed for the back of the club, chuckling softly. LaCroix would doubtless appreciate the girl's manners, if not her timid attitude. He wondered where she had learned them. Most of the young masterless fledges who gravitated to the Raven's shelter seemed barely aware of the respectful deference they would traditionally tender to elder vampires, much less displaying any. Well, it looked like Miklos was going to take the little lamb under his wing, so she should do all right, he thought.

He headed down the familiar hallway, toward the office that Janette had set up for taking care of actual business. The door was unlocked, and he opened it without knocking and walked in, already very aware of who was inside and knowing that the room's occupant would be similarly aware of him.

Nick stopped short and blinked in surprise. LaCroix had dragged a small table over to the row of shelves on the back wall and was standing on top of it, pulling papers out of one of the banker boxes lined up on the highest shelf. He turned toward Nick as his son walked into the room. Nick noticed that his customary icily calm exterior was looking a bit frayed. Usually immaculate, his black clothing sported several dusty smears and a ball of dust (what did Natalie always call them...dust kitties?) perched insolently in his bristling hair.

Smart enough not to be the one to call his master's attention to this development, Nick approached the old vampire in silence. His sire glowered down at him and said tersely,

"You wouldn't happen to know where your sister might have stored any background information on this property, would you?"

As he said it, LaCroix knew it was most likely a fruitless question. In his opinion, neither of his two favorite children had ever been particularly good about keeping orderly records on anything. They were many other delightful things--beautiful, yes; clever, yes; elegant and fastidious, absolutely--organized, no. As he could have predicted, Nicholas gave him a confused look and shrugged.

"No. Was I supposed to keep them?"

LaCroix sighed. "No, Nicholas. You've been doing so many odd things lately that I thought it was possible you'd taken an interest in what became of the effects your sister-daughter---left behind. Other than the shiny ones, that is."

Nick shot his master an black look at that, but there was little real menace behind it---Nick was in such a good mood that even LaCroix' habitual jibes couldn't dislodge it. He had been hoping to cajole the elder vampire into doing something more entertaining than rummaging in boxes of old papers tonight, though.

"Why do you need to find the papers on the club, LaCroix? Didn't Janette give you the deed?"

"I'm not looking for the deed or the title, Nicholas. There are some other documents concerning the original title search that were---" LaCroix could see Nicholas' attention drifting as he spoke, and he cut the explanation short. "Let's just say it would save me a good deal of effort and expense if I could find them, oui?"

Nicholas nodded in genial agreement, perched himself on the edge of the table and watched his sire with interest as he returned to his irritable searching.

Still rummaging through papers, LaCroix made a disgusted noise and tossed a pair of men's silk bikini briefs over his shoulder. "You weren't missing those, were you, Nicholas?"

"No."

With a barely concealed flicker of jealousy, Nick stooped and picked them up, examining them closely. They weren't his. An odd look crossed his face, and glancing up to make sure LaCroix wasn't watching him, he inclined his head and surreptitiously took a confirming whiff. He handed them back up to his sire.

"They're yours."

LaCroix looked up, brows furrowed and gazed into the distance. Apparently a memory suddenly clicked into place, because he murmured "Ah," and looked enlightened. Flicking a glance down into Nick's intently curious face, he gave his son a bland look, took the briefs and tossed them back into the box without a word and continued sorting through the box's contents.

The increasingly irritated elder vampire tore open another box and began sifting through yet another bundle of papers, completely unaware of the changing expression on his son's face. Nick looked speculatively up at the side of his master's face. His gaze then drifted down the long length of his body and back up, pausing to appreciate the way the seat of his pants pulled taut as the old vampire stretched to reach farther into the box, clearly defining the tight, cleanly muscled lines of his buttocks. It was a pity that LaCroix favored wearing loose-fitting pants, Nick mused, he really did have a very attractive rump. He glanced back up at his master, who was still absorbed in his task, muttering under his breath and sorting through another sheaf of disorganized papers.

A wash of yellow crept across Nick's eyes, chasing the deep blue away, and his smile broadened. His lips parted and his fangs dropped down. He paused to savor the moment. Then he leaned forward and soundly bit LaCroix on the ass.

 

Out in the club, Miklos and most of the other patrons looked up as a bellow of outrage issued from the back rooms, followed by a loud crash as if a heavy piece of furniture had been tipped over. Seconds later a grinning Nick hurried out of the back corridor, walking briskly toward the exit. As he neared the door, he raised a hand to Miklos and said loudly,

"You're right, Miklos, he's not in a very good--" Nick broke off as a door slammed open somewhere in the back of the club. Looking a bit nervous suddenly (but still grinning), he broke into a run and was out the door in an eyeblink.

A somewhat disheveled and dusty LaCroix burst out of the corridor, flicked a furious yellow glare around the room, then snarled at Miklos.

"Where is he!"

Keeping his expression carefully grim, Miklos pointed silently at the front door. LaCroix snarled and stormed across the room, tossing a few of the slower fledglings out of his way, flung the front door open and was gone.

Miklos rolled his eyes and continued chatting up the astonished Anneke. Alma walked over to them, placed a tray of dirty glasses on the bar and sniffed,

"I liked them better when they hated each other." She bent to the floor and disdainfully picked up a dust ball left behind in the old vampire's wake.

\-----------------------------

After a short and furious airborne chase, LaCroix having the slight edge on speed and stamina, Nick having the slight edge on agility and maneuverability, the elder vampire caught up with his son on top of a warehouse not far from the converted one serving as Nick's current home.

They crashed down to the broad flat roof with bone-breaking force. For the next few minutes, the gravel-covered roof was an arena of swirling limbs and flashing eyes and fangs, overlaid with a medley of bloodchilling snarls as the two vampires fought viciously. To the casual onlooker it would have seemed like a no-quarter fight to the death. A knowledgeable human or a vampire, however, would have noticed the lack of any really serious damage visited by either combatant on the other.

Eventually the older vampire got his son pinned to the ground, seated firmly on his stomach. They glared at each other, panting, each of them bleeding from a dozen or more assorted minor gashes and bitemarks. Suddenly Nick grinned impishly up at his angry mentor and started laughing. The laugh choked off when his sire placed large white hands around his throat and squeezed. After a few moments, the hands relaxed and LaCroix snarled down into Nick's unrepentant face. Still chortling, Nick said,

"I couldn't help it---it was an unexpected flank attack."

For a moment he thought LaCroix was going to simply put his hands back around his throat and throttle him into unconsciousness. Then an odd expression crossed his sire's face and he snorted an partially suppressed laugh and relaxed a bit. Nick smiled, relaxing inwardly. Eyes narrowed, LaCroix reached down and drew his finger across Nick's chin, wiping up a dribble of blood that had trickled down from a now-healed split lip. Bringing it up to his mouth, he slowly and thoughtfully sucked Nick's blood from his fingertip, the yellow battle-shine in his eyes darkening into a warmer tone. Drawing his hand away, he regarded the clean, moistened fingertip and said casually,

"So, Nicholas. You have my attention. What did you want to discuss?" As he spoke, Nick's hands ran slowly up the front of his shirt to grip the top, winding the opened shirtneck around his grasp. He slowly pulled the unresisting LaCroix down toward him and began to lick the bloody streaks from his sire's face and neck. As he did, he murmured, "You know, I forget now. Anything you'd like to talk about, amant?"

LaCroix had closed his eyes in pleasure as Nick's cool tongue moved over his throat. He opened them at Nick's words and gave him a predatory smile, settling himself more comfortably against his son's very willing body. "Since you've brought the subject...up, amant, let's discuss flank attacks in a bit more detail, shall we?" Nick grinned and nibbled teasingly at the tender skin beneath his master's ear, whispering, "As long as we include demonstrations in the lecture, pere."

"Oh, I think we can guarantee that, Nicholas."


End file.
